Week Of Minor Victories
I actually did some writing, the first since the baby arrived. I dug up that short story that looked like it only needed four hours of revision before getting sent out into the world, and finished the revision in the predicted four hours. Accumulating that time on task took two weeks. It'll do for a start. It had been too long since I'd last finished a project. Getting the anthology done enough that I could hand it off to my co-editor was not quite the same as getting it all the way done. Anyhow, I seem to be back on my feet. Staggering around in a slight daze, but at least staggering upright.
Survived my day at Philcon. Everywhere I went, people peered into the stroller and cooed, "Baby's first con!" Conrad did really well, for a three-month-old. I had to whisk him out of panel discussions and keynote speeches to de-fuss him once or twice for every hour of the programming I attempted to attend, and conversations were only sustainable for a maximum of ten minutes. Mostly, though, I was pleasantly surprised to have made it there at all.
Tonight we're recovering from our first attempt at wrangling two kids in Manhattan. Thanksgiving belonged to the Brooklyn in-laws this year. (That sounds like a baseball team, doesn't it? As in, "He pitched for the Brooklyn In-Laws back in 1936.") If you ever go to, say, the American Museum of Natural History in the company of six preschool-age children, here's the trick: Don't think of it as a museum visit at all. Think of it as a lunch outing with kids, on which you might get to see one or two bonus dinosaurs. Managing adult expectations is almost as hard as managing toddlers.